


Nightmares Can Come True

by InvisibleLee



Series: Detroit: Become Human [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleLee/pseuds/InvisibleLee
Summary: Hank has nightmares. Connor represses emotion. It all breaks when those nightmares prove to be more, and Connor has choices to make.





	1. Poison

The heart monitor beeped along steadily, albeit slowly. The man on the bed lay still, sleeping peacefully, induced by the medicines injected into the IV bag now strung up high on the left. A television played quietly in the back, up on the wall for him to see when conscious. The volume had been turned down, to accommodate the now-sleeping patient, and the news playing on the screen had probably helped him along in his collapse into the unconscious state. Blinds were drawn to keep away sunlight from his face, and the warmed blanket draped over him seemed to help keep him asleep.

Of the two chairs next to the bed for visitors, only one was occupied. Sat perfectly upright, eyes closed, sat the tall male responsible for alerting the ambulance to the patient’s condition. He’d stayed by the other’s side the whole time, all since the night before, waiting for him to rouse. Others had filtered in to visit over the course of the morning, and the evidence of such visits were the cheesy and stereotypical well-wishing cards and flowers piled on the floor on the other side of the man’s bed. The bustle of the rest of the hospital is thankfully muffled by the closed glass door, and the curtain covering the windows in keep others from peeking.

When the man on the bed shifted and coughed, and cursed quietly, the other didn’t move. Bedridden, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking and squinting against the lighting of the room. It took him a few minutes to register where he was, and once he did, he let out another hoarse series of curses. Hospitals were not his favorite place to be. He detested seeing his name written on that dastard whiteboard. Hank Anderson. He huffed, trying to remember what led him here --- a glance to the right told him everything.

“Connor, what the fuck am I doing here?”

At the sound of his name, the android opened his eyes to see the other glowering at him. A small smile quirked up his lips briefly --- he figured he wouldn’t be too happy with this.

“Recovering, Lieutenant. You had gone unconscious and I couldn’t wake you. You were experiencing alcohol poisoning, which is extremely dangerous.”

A moment passed, and Hank cursed quietly again, head falling back against his pillow. The last thing he could remember was waking violently from a nap around seven. He could remember _what_ woke him, too, but he didn’t even want to _think_ about exploring that. And he could remember digging out a nice bottle of whiskey and downing it. Seemed like it was only a matter of time until the habit he had of killing himself daily finally caught up with him. He shook his head briefly.

“Alright. Fuck, okay. Well, let’s get out of here, then.” He was in the process of reaching for the tubes he’s connected to, but Connor was abruptly on his feet and grasping his wrist. “What the fuck? Get off of me!”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I can’t let you do that. You haven’t been released.”

Hank scowled as he was further restrained when he tried to move. His gaze moved across Connor’s face, and he fully expected him to be deadpan as usual. But there was something in his face, the way his brows knitted together, the way he was frowning … like he was expressing genuine concern and care for him. The thought was ridiculous --- Connor was no deviant.

Or, so he said.

Nevertheless, he dropped his fight after a moment with an exasperated breath of air, and Connor visibly relaxed, though he didn’t sit down again, wary that Hank might try it again.

“Thank you. Captain Fowler visited earlier, and some of the other officers. They left their gifts, and most claimed they hope you return to good health.” Hank glanced at him and laughed.

“They all made a joke about it, didn’t they? Somethin’ like how _it’s about time_ , huh?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. But they do wish you well. I think they’re less comfortable with the idea of having me around without you.”

“How do you know that, eh?”

“I heard them say it.”

It was the way Connor said it that caught Hank’s attention, but he didn’t say anything. Connor wasn’t looking at him, instead studying the floor, it seemed. Huh. Before he could really question _anything_ , the doctor and the android nurse came in to check in on him, and Connor slipped out of the room to let them do so in peace.

 

* * *

 

 _They were escaping, and Hank just wasn’t fast enough. He shouted for Connor to chase after them as he called in the escape, and he did his best to follow after. He hadn’t even thought to really go_ **_inside_ ** _the abandoned home, and, of course, in true Connor fashion, he found exactly who they were searching for, and proved much better equipped for pursuit._

_Towards the train station, and then a left down to the --- oh, fuck. They were going out onto that damned highway. Connor was stopped at the fence, and Hank finally caught up with him there, cursing._

_“ That’s insane.”_

_It was practically impossible, and yet, before their very eyes, the deviant and little girl managed to make it halfway across before Connor began to climb. Hank quickly tugged him back down---_

_“Hey! Where you goin’?”_

_“I can’t let them get away.”_

_“They won’t! They’ll never make it to the other side.”_

_But despite all of Hank’s reassurances, Connor shrugged him off, “I can’t take that chance.” As he attempted the climb once more, Hank tugged him down a second time._

_“Hey! You will get yourself killed! Do_ **_not_ ** _go after them, Connor, that’s an order!”_

_But it didn’t matter, because Connor jerked himself out of his grasp and hauled himself over the fence._

_“Connor, goddammit!”_

_Hank could only watch as his partner vaulted himself over the railing, making his way across the highway. He kept a grip on the fence, cursing the other as he followed after in search of his mission. But he only managed to catch up with the android before he lost his groove --- and suddenly he was plowed into by a large vehicle ---_

 

* * *

 

 

Hank awoke with a shout, jerking upright, much to his poor body’s dismay. He was still attached to these wires --- he’d fallen off to sleep again after the doctor had left him be, and when he woke, there Connor was, in the same seat as before. But he wasn’t in stand-by, instead watching Hank with that same frown he’d seen on his face earlier. Straightening himself up, he huffed.

“Would you stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that?”

Hank’s harsh tone seemed to jerk him from whatever thoughts he was stuck in, and he blinked. The LED on his temple was whirling a bright yellow before slowly calming to a slow blue.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. I was … thinking about some things.”

Something strong enough, apparently, to completely distract Connor from his surroundings. Hank raised a brow in question, but he received no answer.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Hank snorted.

“You always do.”

“How do you … know, when you feel things? Emotions, I mean?”

Hank gaped at him for a long moment, seemingly speechless. Connor, asking about emotions? As an android?

“I mean- it's for research. Help understanding the deviants,” Connor was quick to add, as if knowing exactly what Hank was thinking. But the thought stayed, even as he nodded, as if accepting the explanation. He certainly felt suspicious.

“Well, it sorta depends on the emotion. And everyone feels it differently. Read a few books or somethin’, authors have the best mind to explain it to you.”

Connor nodded, glancing off to the side for a moment. There was silence in the room --- it was almost time for Hank to be released, too. And then it was back to the investigations.

“What woke you so abruptly?”

The question broke the silence almost uncomfortably, and Hank's expression took on a bitter, irritated look.

“What's with the interrogation, Connor?”

“I was only asking-”

“Asking too much, in my fuckin’ opinion.”

Connor subsided after opening his mouth and receiving a harder glare for doing so. He stood, announced he would retrieve the doctors and something to eat for him, and promptly left the room. His footsteps echoed until he was long gone down the hall, and Hank ran a hand over his face tiredly.

_Fuck._


	2. Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hank tries to prevent something but merely causes something else, Connor is in denial, and neither of them want to acknowledge all the things they should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect this chapter so soon, but I got excited, so here it is. A lot longer than initially intended, but.

Hank and Connor returned to the station the following day. Hank looked worse for wear, a little haggard and disheveled, only slightly more than usual. Namely due to the fact that Connor had dragged him out of bed to force him to work. Hank had attempted to interrogate Connor about some of the things he had noticed the day before, but Connor's only response was to question him once more about the strange wake he'd had, which had shut him up and made him cooperate. He wasn't sure he was ready to talk about that.

Ever.

But in the span of time between morning and sometime afternoon, there had been a report of a deviant at Stratford Tower, and after a quick briefing, they were on site. Connor flipped his coin between his palms, spun it on a finger. A fidgeting, nervous sort of habit that Hank had never seen on another android. After a moment, he snatched it away, “Starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor.”

There was a look on Connor's face that he didn't want to examine, and he was sure Connor felt similarly, from the way he looked away and offered a quiet apology. The rest of the elevator ride was quiet, and once they reached the floor, Hank stepped out eagerly. He didn't like the way Connor kept glancing at him, fidgeting. No wonder he used the coin. The android couldn't sit still.

Connor followed after Hank to listen to the briefing on what happened. The FBI was even trying to get involved, something none of the other officers seemed to be interested in dealing with. Connor scanned around the hall as they approached the room. Evidently, one of the men guarding the door had been knocked out, and the other had gotten away clean. There was a spattering of blue blood on the wall. One of the Invaders had been shot, it seemed. Keeping out of Hank's sight, Connor dipped a finger into the liquid, placing it against the sensitive scanner inside his mouth. He matched it with a model number, and his mind quickly reconstructed the most likely scenario. 

After a moment, he joined Hank inside the larger room. A quick scan of the man he was speaking to --- Perkins, Richard. FBI agent. 

“What's that?” the man asked, the question directed at Hank. But Connor knew it regarded him. He glanced up, met the man's gaze.

“My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife.”

That caused a snort, but it didn't bother Connor. Of course it didn't.

Connor was left to trace around the room, scanning and gathering details, reconstructing the scene in his own head. Hank attempted to gather what he could, though he glanced at Connor often, catching his LED spinning a solid yellow as he worked. He was focused. 

“The guards would have seen something.” The words caught Hank's attention, and glanced over. Shrugging slightly.

“Maybe they didn't check the cameras.”

Connor seemed to frown, glancing at the officer behind him.

“We stored the other androids in the kitchen. We can't prove they were connected, but we didn't know what else to do with them.”

There was that look of determination crossing over Connor's features, and he began to walk towards the room that held the possible accomplice. Hank was tempted to let him go, but suddenly he had a thought ---

 

\------

 

_ Hank couldn't find Connor. The damned android had wandered off while he wasn't watching. And now he was searching the limited space that there was to explore. Maybe he'd found a trail, or maybe he'd gotten distracted, or run off on his own. He was huffing as he paced down the hall, and the only thing that drew him into the kitchen was a sudden  _ **_thud._ ** _ Peeking in, his heart dropped. _

_ Connor was on the ground, there was blue blood all over the counter, and he was reaching for something. But he could see the red on the LED and his stomach followed his heart. He raced to his side. _

_ “Connor! Hang on, son, hang on, hang on.” _

_ He flipped him over, and another wrench to his heart came. Something was missing from his torso, and blue blood was practically _ **_pouring_ ** _ out. _

_ “Hang on, we're gonna save you.” _

_ He wished he could say it with more conviction. He had no idea what he was saying. _

_ “… deviant …” _

_ Oh, god. Connor's voice was failing, and his LED was stuttering slower and slower. He was going slack in Hank's arms. _

_ “There was … a deviant.” _

_ A last stuttering shudder and Connor powered down, and Hank stared down at his still, empty face. His eyes were stinging and his throat was already aching. _

_ “Connor … no …” _

 

_ \------ _

 

Suddenly, his hand darted out and grasped Connor's shoulder. He knew he couldn't really stop him --- Connor most certainly had more than enough strength to shrug him off. Instead, he stopped in his tracks, and he glanced back at him, eyebrow raised in question. Hank couldn’t speak for a moment, and his hand was gripping Connor’s shoulder tight enough that, were he human, he would bruise. Connor turned around fully when Hank didn’t answer. 

“Lieutenant? Is something wrong?”

Hank swallowed, dropped his hand. They went into his pockets and he attempted to recover from his momentary loss of composure. 

“It’s nothing, just … why don’t we check the roof first? And if that’s good, then we can go see about the kitchen.”

His words were … softer, more desperate than he meant them to sound. Connor’s LED spun a light yellow before glinting back to blue as he gave a nod. Hank seemed off --- his stress level was at eighty-percent. 

“Sure. Maybe there’s something to find.” 

The moment Connor affirmed the suggestion, Hank's stress levels abruptly dropped by half, and Connor gave pause to wonder why. He'd have to ask later. For the moment, he registered the relief on the man's face and allowed himself to be led to the roof stairway, Hank with a firm, flat hand on the small of his back. Connor could feel some of his own tension melt away at the touch. He refused to think of that much more than was strictly necessary. He spared a glance back towards the hallway he was being led away from, trying to figure out what had worried the other so much. But soon enough, they were up on the roof, and the thought became irrelevant.

Hank was relieved that Connor didn’t seem to question his actions, and he watched the android get right back to work, not missing a beat. He seemed to be able to just move on that way, though Hank knew well that Connor hadn't forgotten. He just acted as if nothing had happened. Which, he supposed, was preferable to being questioned. But Hank had a bad feeling up here, too. But he knew, either way, that whatever happened here would have to be better than what would have happened back in that kitchen. 

It was silly to entertain the thought. He wasn't sure he could trust it --- it had merely been a past nightmare of his. But if he was going to take that risk, he'd be damned. Not with his partner's life potentially in danger that way.

He rubbed at his face tiredly, feeling the beginnings of a terrible headache forming at the edges of his right temple. And, of course, in the mere seconds he was doing that, Connor had disappeared from his sight. He muttered out a heated curse --- couldn't the guy ever just  _ wait _ for him? The answer appeared to be  _ no _ , but fortunately, there were very few places up here that the android could have run off to. So he started on his own path, quickly coming to see the droid in question, setting his mind at ease just as quickly as it had tensed. He was approaching two small doors against one of the containers. His heart dropped---

 

\------

 

_ Connor was falling back, blue blood seeping from his shoulder. Hank scrambled to pull out his gun, shooting aimlessly at the deviant responsible as he struggled to get his partner upright and back behind cover. The deviant was crouched behind his own cover as fire from the other officers rained down. The two settled behind another container, and Connor was already looking back. _

_ “If they kill it, we won't learn anything!” _

_ “There's nothing we can do--- Connor!” _

_ But Connor was already charging back towards the deviant, headlong into the fire that didn't stop even once he was. And the android didn't seem to realize as such, because he was struck from behind by several other bullets. His outcry forced the detective to shout for a cease fire --- the deviant had popped up when he heard Connor and he'd been effectively shot just as well.  _

_ Hank hurried to Connor's side once the shots stopped, and he rushed to try to do  _ **_anything_ ** _ to stop the leaking blue blood from pouring out. But he couldn't do anything against it, and even as he protested the world, Connor went slack, and he cursed, staring down into his face. His jaw was clenched tight as the others went for the deviant, paying no mind to the diligent android detective whom had fallen … _

 

_ \---- _

 

“Connor,  _ no! _ ”

The other paused again, hands on the handles as he glanced back, calling back hesitantly.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

He was about to demand him to step away, drawing his own gun and ready to do it himself, but it didn't seem to matter his precautions. The deviant knew they had found it, and it abruptly pushed out of the hiding spot, shooting all the same. The blue blood bloomed across the back of Connor's uniform just as Hank imagined, and he had to swallow fear to rush to his side. He pulled Connor back, keeping a tight grip on him.

“Connor, are you alright?”

“I'm fine--- but we need to stop them, we can't learn anything from it if it dies---”

“ _ No _ , Connor, you will get yourself killed!”

“I am perfectly capable---”

“ _ Please. _ ”

Connor blinked at him, suddenly taken aback by the hoarse plea coming from his superior. Conflicting orders and objectives scattered over his view.

“ … I'm sorry, but I have to try.”

And he jerked out from Hank's grip, who cursed loudly and attempted to get the officers to stop their fire. Connor dodged the bullets with ease, vaulted over the container hiding the deviant, and grasped his forearm, pinning him to the container behind them. There was a pause, half of a second perhaps as Connor probed it's memory.

And then it shot itself, crumbling in Connor's grip. The android scrambled back, LED flashing an angry red. Hank rushed forward.

“Connor, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

_ Other than the gunshot wound you already have? _

“I'm okay. I'm … I'm okay.”

“ You scared the shit out of me _. Goddammit_ , Connor, I told you to stay put! Why didn't you just _listen?_ ”

But he could see the red of his LED then, and when Connor looked up, Hank paused in his anger. The other's expression was  _ different _ .

“I was in it's memory. When it shot … I felt it  _ die.  _ Like … like  _ I _ was dying. I felt  _ scared. _ ”

Connor was looking at him as if he had all the answers, and Hank swallowed back irrational words. He … couldn't understand what Connor was experiencing. He had no idea the … whatever Connor did could ever have an effect like that.

But then the other was back at work, pretending as though he hadn't told Hank what he had. Trying to  _ forget. _ Hank knew the difference this time. Connor wouldn't look back at the dead deviant, couldn't bring himself to. It was the way he clenched his jaw, the way he  _ breathed _ for once. Connor didn't have to, but he was. 

“I saw something. A name, on a huge piece of metal.  _ Jericho. _ ”

 

* * *

 

 

The paperwork to file was a pain in the ass. Pages and pages, in order to report the destroyed deviant, and the account and cover for Connor’s injury, in case it caused any issues down the road. Of course, the wound had healed quickly, and though Hank knew the ability of such existed, he still found himself looking at the blue stain, and eventually just the hole in the fabric, that was the only reminder that he had been shot at all. The blue blood evaporated at some point, but the tiny hole was enough to remind everyone what happened.

What a  _ deviant _ will do.

_ It was protecting itself _ , Hank's mind provided. Unhelpful.  _ It was scared. Connor said so. _

The thought made him glance over at the android. He had said he  _ felt scared. _ And he wanted to ask after it, but every time he looked over, Connor was equally busy doing something, and his LED hadn't stopped flickering between yellow and red since they left Stratford Tower. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. He could only begin to imagine how overwhelmed Connor might have felt, and that wasn't probably even  _ accurate. _

Once the paperwork was filed, the two slid into Hank's old car. Music was on, but not as loud as it usually was. In case someone wanted to talk, Hank figured. Better to talk normally than have to scream over the music. Luckily, he had a selection of Blues on instead, so there wasn't too much to worry over.

“Lieutenant, you have passed the turn to my housing district.”

He'd hoped Connor wouldn't notice, but he should have known that was futile. Connor noticed everything.

“I know.”

“But-”

“ _ Connor _ .”

His voice wasn't as irritated as he'd wanted it to be --- it sounded fragile, tired. Weak. But it made Connor settle back into the seat, stare out the window unbreathing, and go silent. Good enough. He could mull over the consequences of his own actions sometime later, when his head isn’t stuffed with muffled anger, anxiety, and everything else under the sun that he  _ shouldn’t _ feel for a  _ machine. _

But … did a machine look at him with that level of concern, back at the hospital? Did a machine claim to need him? Did a machine stay all night long in wait for him to recover? It was hard to think about. Deviants, in his mind, had been the enemy. A threat. But his mind flashed back to the Eden Club, the Traci’s. The way they’d held hands, the way they’d  _ looked _ at each other. Connor hadn’t shot them, though he should have. They’d attacked officers, been endangering their lives. But he hadn’t, and they’d escaped. And Hank’s words had been that it might be better that way. The way Connor had watched them, he hadn’t caught on it too much, but he’d seen it. 

He’d have to think more on that later, too, because he couldn’t focus on the road like that.

They made it to Hank’s home quick enough, though now it was beginning to sprinkle. Hank darted out of the car about as quickly as he could manage, fumbling for his keys to get in before it really started coming down. Connor took his time, on the other hand. He turned his gaze up to the sky, at the precipitation falling. The rain spattered over his face gently, and his eyes closed against it, though there was no real need to do so. His LED was slowly going a gentle blue as he stood there, and when Hank looked back, door finally unlocked, he was transfixed by the image of Connor. Young, lithe, perfect Connor, the android sent by CyberLife, initially to make his life hell, and now to give him half of a heart attack every step of their investigation. He stared until he realized Connor was glancing back at him serenely, a gentle smile on his face. The rain was beginning to fall steadier, and now it dripped from Connor’s hair and face. Hank could feel the blood flushing his face, but he refused to acknowledge that, either.

“C’mon, you’re getting soaked!”

Connor finally headed in the direction of the door. He stood behind Hank, who watched him for a moment longer before shaking his head and opened the door. The large dog, already introduced to Connor due to the night of the Eden Club investigation, thundered up to the android, demanding attention after Hank pat his head a few times. The door was shut, and Connor dropped to his knees to give Sumo the attention he so desired. Hank hung his own jacket to dry, and turned to watch the android for a moment before quickly turning.

“Hang up your coat --- damned tired of seein’ work today.”

“Okay, Lieutenant.”

“No, no, no. None of that, that’s still  _ work _ , Connor.”

“Hank, then.”

The man ran his hands over his face and nodded.

“Yeah. There’s a bathroom --- you know where, nevermind. Dry off in there when the big baby’s satiated.”

It took him only a minute to get settled into the living room, hearing the steady thump of Sumo’s tail. There’s a little groan he had to give, leaning back against the cushions. Staring at the ceiling fan, determined to hate this moment in his life. That he was even in this position at all. Maybe he should have retired after twenty years. Probably would have done him some good, could have gotten a small job. A postal job, maybe. Something light. He was good with paperwork, maybe he could get into that sort of thing …

Connor finally came through the living room, his coat hung as requested, and his shoes had been disregarded at the door. Hank’s eyes roamed over to where he stood, and maybe he should have told him to keep the jacket on. It was odd to see him without it, white shirt and tie without the other clear labels of his identity aside from the LED on his temple. He was looking around the room, taking some leisure to examine the place.

“You have a very  _ cozy _ home, Lieu- Hank.”

“ … Go dry off.”

Connor did as he was told, moving into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He turned to the mirror in the room, staring at himself in the reflection. His hair was plastered to his head, dripping with water at a slow rate. He blinked a few times, purposely. Watching his eyelids move over his eyes, seeing the darkness and then the sudden light of opening them again. Mechanically. He winked. Watched it happen, saw a more  _ normal _ movement in the action somehow. 

**_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED._ **

Another of several notifications he’d noticed in the past few days. He shook it off, grabbed a towel, and he began to focus on drying himself off. The fabric of his clothing was a bit different, and was quickly almost dry already. His skin was still wet, and he focused on that and his hair. Watching himself in the mirror, forcing relaxation into his movements. Trying to look  _ natural _ , the way the deviants seemed to present themselves, the way humans looked in every action. Let his shoulders back from his usual rigid posture. Let his expression release it’s fixed form. Took slow, steady breaths that he didn’t  _ need _ , but attributed to that look. He took off his tie decidedly and hung it next to the now-damp towel. 

He’s going to have to do some heavy thinking, and some heavy research and deleting before he reported back. Whenever he did next. His deadline was tomorrow night for his next report, anyways. He wouldn't worry too much over it. 

Finally he returned to the living, to find Hank having turned on the television to some show or movie or other than Connor recognized as an older comedy from the nineties. He stood off to the side of the couch as he watched on for a moment before Hank huffed, drawing his attention.

“Sit the hell down, you’re makin’ me nervous.”

“Sorry, Hank. Thank you.”

He settled onto the couch, glancing at Hank and attempting to copy his way of sitting. When the man noticed, he snorted out a surprised laugh.

“You look ridiculous, what are you doing?”

“I am trying to get comfortable.”

“You look like the  _ least _ comfortable person on Earth from this view.”

Connor frowned --- he could feel what Hank meant, too, and that was what frustrated him the most. He adjusted his position, eventually settling to tuck one foot under his other leg, leaning back into the couch. He took a few deep breaths, eyes closing, LED a tranquil blue that illuminated the room. 

“Can I ask a question?”

There had been silence for a few moments before Connor asked, and Hank didn’t move his gaze from the screen.

“Is it personal?”

“Probably.”

Hank sighed, “Go ahead.”

“Why did you stop me from going into the kitchen? And why did you try to stop me from opening those doors?”

There was no immediate response. Connor was watching him, and Hank knew it. He kept his focus on the television as he tried his best to come up with some excuse.

“I just had a feeling, okay?”

Connor gave a slight hum, still staring.

“Like an  _ instinct _ , or  _ intuition? _ ”

“I guess.”

Connor went quiet and Hank could see the change in his LED as he started thinking. Hard enough that it stayed that color for several minutes until Hank spoke abruptly.

“Are you  _ feeling _ things, Connor?”

There was a brief flash of red --- so quickly that Hank thought he might have simply imagined the sudden tumult of processing.

“Of course not. I am still an android.”

“Feeling things wouldn't make you something you aren't---”

“Lieutenant, are you insinuating that I am a deviant?”

Connor was … glowering at him. His jaw was set in anger, or perhaps false anger. His lips were drawn tight and his eyelids lowered over his eyes as his eyebrows arched down to draw the perfect look of  _ anger. _

“I  _ told _ you---”

“I am no  _ deviant _ , Lieutenant. What happened today was a mere fluke. A misstep on my part. I should have calculated the likelihood of his self-destruct. I should have avoided probing his memory in such an unstable moment. He transferred his emulated emotion onto me when I did not expect it. It merely caught me off guard. It will never happen again, and it certainly did not turn me into something I am not.”

Hank went quiet, glanced away from the heat in Connor's eyes and voice. But he wasn't done, it seemed. 

“He.”

“What?” Connors voice held an edge. Like he was  _ irritated. _

“The deviant. You called it a  _ he, _ Connor. And you didn't shoot those Tracy’s, and you didn't keep chasing after that AX400, and you didn't let me die in my drunken stupor. Because, believe it or not, Connor, something's happening up in that mind of yours, whether you fuckin’ like it or not.” Hank was facing Connor again. Speaking with certainty and with a firm expression on his face that told he was speaking how he saw it. “You may still follow your mission, Connor, but you're changing, whatever that may lead to.”

Connor didn't have words to reply with. He wasn't look at Hank anymore, but the man could see the clenched jaw and fists, the way he seemed to fight for control over himself. It was new. He sighed.

“Listen. I don't  _ care _ what you are or aren't. It doesn't matter to me. I just want to get through all this in one piece. Okay?”

“ … Okay.”

**_NEW OBJECTIVE RECEIVED. PROTECT LT. ANDERSON, HANK._ **

Hank seemed to finally relax, and he stood. Whatever he'd turned on had been paused in their discussion, and now he powered it all off.

“I'm ready for bed. Are you, uh … ?”

“I do not require sleep, but I will likely do a shutdown. I can keep to the living room.”

Hank resisted to urge to offer his own bed.

“Alright.”

And he disappeared into his bedroom with another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will probably be diverging from the canon storyline soon, so fair warning. I'll try to stick as best I can to it, but I make no real promises.


	3. Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor makes a mistake, Hank gets angry, and Kamski learns a little something new.

They were outside the residence of Elijah Kamski. The former founder of CyberLife himself, and Connor's whole expression showed off his confusion. He'd voiced it, too. He just didn't see how this man would be useful to the investigation at all, but Hank was insisting that they go and question him. 

“If anyone knows why or how this deviancy is happening, it's him.”

After last night, things seemed tense between the two. There was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air in the car ride over, and even now, as Hank knocked on the door, it was clear he was discomforted. Connor wasn't sure how he was supposed to behave with this --- he knew he should make some form of apology, or perhaps further explain, in a more rational and calm manner, his disposition. But he didn't say anything.

An android opened the door. She was tall, blonde hair and blue eyes, and her LED was a gentle turquoise. She greeted them easily, and a brief, unintentional scan revealed her model to be the Chloe. The one to first pass the Turing Test. He tensed, searched his pocket for his coin before he remember that Hank had confiscated his little tool. He fidgeted on his feet instead.

He didn't pay attention to whatever Hank said to her --- they entered and she told them to wait in the room while she consulted with her owner. Her creator, rather.

Connor paced the room. He looked around for things to examine, things to focus on. To narrow his view of Kamski altogether. A photo of him, a photo of his teacher --- of  _ Amanda. _ He almost shuddered. He didn't like it.

Finally, he sat down, and he was made aware that Hank had been watching him in silence. He met his gaze, and it didn't drop as it usually did, whether in disgust or embarrassment, or what other emotion he might have been experiencing. He kept eye contact. Made small talk for the first time all morning, even though Connor was entirely unresponsive. He tried.

Was it deviant to be petty?

Hank thought so. He watched Connor move around the room with his somehow mechanical grace, watched him stare up at framed pictures. Watched him stare back at him, almost defiantly, as if daring him to force him to do something. As if daring him to say the wrong thing.

Hank was walking on eggshells and he damn well knew it. And he was running blindly into the field, trying not to think of the eggshells, figuring they're going to crack, one way or another.

Finally, after several more moments of fruitlessly-filled silence, Chloe returned to lead them into the other room. An in ground pool had been placed, and several other models of the very same android were in this room, even in the pool, chatting away aimlessly. Connor watched them thoughtfully, even as he followed the lieutenant. He never saw the androids at the station, or anywhere else, for that matter, conversing together freely. The thought put a frown to his expression that he quickly turned back into his emotionless mask. He needed to be strong. Here especially.

Hank was talking to Kamski, he realized. And Kamsi was turning to him, asking a question. Asking how he  _ felt _ about all of this. About what he  _ wanted. _

“My thoughts and desires on this do not matter. I am here to accomplish a mission, and that is what I'll do.”

His answer was easy to form, easy to project, even if it stung his tongue after. Even if it made Hank turn disbelieving eyes to him that he could just see in his peripheral. He wouldn't acknowledge him like this.

“Well, that's what you're programmed to say. But what do you  _ really _ feel?”

“We're the ones asking the questions.”

His response was firm, if false. He liked how confident he sounded, even though he was struggling to keep to it. He'd wanted to say something else. About how he was  _ confused. _ Doubtful, even. But he didn't. He was carefully controlled. 

Hank could see his LED, but Kamski wasn't looking at it. Hank knew there was a war of thoughts going on inside the android's head.

“You've heard of the Turing Test, right? It's simple really … but this is different. Designed to determine  _ empathy _ in an android. Isn't she  _ beautiful? _ ” He was leading on of his androids over to them, and he forced her to kneel as he talked about her specs and all. As if she were a machine. Because she was. Connor forced himself to look down upon her, until Kamski produced a gun and placed it against Connor's chest. His gaze shot up. He wasn't supposed to carry a weapon --- of course, that hadn't quite stopped him in the past, even if he never even used it.

He took the weapon from the man hesitantly. His LED flashed a quick red before returning to normal, making Hank shift uneasily.

“Shoot her, and I'll answer one of you important questions. Show no empathy. Don't, walk away, show empathy, and I'll tell you nothing.”

Connor's LED was spinning a bright yellow, he was concentrating hard. There were several factors going into this as he raised the gun and stared down the barrel of it at the Android posed before him. He had a mission. He had  _ a mission _ .

“C'mon, Connor, let's get out of here. You don't have to do this.”

Hank's hand was on his shoulder, beckoning him to leave, to drop the gun and go. It was tempting. So very tempting. He remembered Simon, how it felt when he died. He remembered feeling so  _ scared _ he couldn't _ breathe _ , even if he tried. He remembered the fight, the will to live until he knew he couldn't.

He couldn't shoot her. It would be wrong.

“Oh, Connor, but don't you have a mission to accomplish? What of when you fail? They'll only replace you. Better to get this done. Have their approval.”

_ I always accomplish my mission. _

“No, Connor, don't, you don't have to prove anything.”

Connor tensed. He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, gaze hardened.

“I'm no  _ deviant _ , Lieutenant.”

And he pulled the trigger. The gun went off with a jarring jerk, a bang that made Hank's ears ring and caused some static in Connor's audio processor for a brief moment. The bullet seared straight through the android's forehead and she buckled, toppling over in a heap. Kamski nodded.

“Test negative. You have no empathy. I'll tell you what you want to know.”

Hank cursed. He didn't  _ understand.  _ And he didn't want to. He turned around abruptly and stormed off to the car, unable to get the image of Connor looking so conflicted before murdering her. All in the name of a  _ mission _ . Fuck that.

Connor was left behind with Kamski, and the first word out of his mouth was, “Why?”

Kamski tutted. “Are you sure you want that to be your question?”

“Why did you make me shoot her? Just to get answers?” Connor insisted. He was glancing down at Chloe now, and Kamski kept on staring out of the huge panes of glass on the wall.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” he mused. “That test is no accurate way of showing empathy, really. Even humans will go through acts of savagery with no immediate remorse, but often show signs after the fact.”

Connor didn't look away from the deactivated android on the floor. He needed to move on. For the moment.

“Where is  _ Jericho _ ?”

Kamski hummed. “Jericho. A place for androids to be free, and for deviants to rise up against their creators.”

One of the remaining Chloe's was walking up to them. Standing before Connor. He glanced at her, saw something in her gaze that surprised him. 

“They share a piece of code to direct others. Information swapping.”

He understood what Kamski entailed. He would have to interface, have to probe her memory to get what he needed. He didn't want to. Some part of him resisted, even as he stretched out his arm and took her wrist.

Images flashed through his mind, quickly enough that he couldn't examine them at this moment. But he saw, heard,  _ felt _ other things just as well. He snatched his hand back, LED flickering red as he stared into the other's eyes, trying to decipher something. As if she held some other key.

**_JERICHO KEY DOWNLOADED._ **

“You have the key. Ferndale station is the door.”

Connor stepped past his, and when he grasped his arm to stop him, he jerked out of his grip.

“A war is coming. You're going to have to pick a side, Connor.”

Connor didn't want to hear any more of what he was going to say. He started off for the door, eager to be back out in the cold air that didn't feel so suffocating, so condemning. Accusatory.

“Oh, by the way. I always put a backdoor in all my programs. You never know.”

Connor hurried out the door, almost gasping for breath once he managed to get out. His gaze found Hank, leaning against the door of his car. He hadn't expected him to wait.

“Lieutenant---”

“How could you? You  _ shot that girl _ , Connor.”

His tone was angry, even more accusing than back indoors. He wanted to run, duck back inside just to escape it. 

“I was … I was just completing my mission.”

“You know what? You're just a machine, Connor. A fuckin’  _ machine _ that I don't know  _ how _ I ever thought you could have been more.”

Connor couldn't argue with him, had nothing to say. He knew he couldn't convince Hank otherwise, and part of him believed this for the best. After all, Hank was the man who caused all of these issues, surely. He was the one behind it all.

But as Hank climbed into his car, slammed the door, and started up the engine, Connor felt something crushing. He felt sore, suddenly, as if there was something breaking within him. He watched, distressed, as Hank spun the tires and drove away, leaving Connor behind to find his own way back.

_ It hurt. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue isn't eactly canon but you know what good enough. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter tomorrow or day after!


	4. HM500

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor does a lot of internal thinking and someone throws a wrench into his understanding of himself and the world around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is way longer than I thought it would be. Originally it was going to pair up with what is now going to be the next chapter, but it just seemed irrationally long by then.  
> I also have been doing my best to stick with the same timeline and realize that this story is going to be way longer than originally planned.

Connor never spent much time outside. He'd caught a cab back from the house he'd been left at, trying to ignore the nasty _feeling_ gnawing at him. It wasn't working very well, though. His mind was alight with the scenes of earlier, and he couldn't stop thinking about that Chloe he'd shot. The way she’d dropped, dead weight to the floor. It made him shudder when he thought about it.

During the span of the car ride, he figured out how to disable his warnings of software instabilities. Made it easier to watch the scenery.

He wasn’t sure _where_ he was going, really. Part of him wanted to return to the small apartment rented out to his name during his investigations. One part told him to do his duties, to report back to the station. Another part, the irrational part of him, wanted to stay out, go nowhere. He got out of the car at a random intersection, stood on the sidewalk, and looked up.

The sun was high in the sky, hanging above him. It was barely afternoon, and it was blinding when he looked up. But he found a level of beauty in it all anyways. He started walking, paying no attention to where or how fast. It was just him, it seemed, and he was walking alone down the streets. Thinking.

Why _had_ he shot her? And when had he started regarding other androids to require _pronouns?_ Hank had even noticed that change before he had. Something had snapped within him, it seemed, something had bent and pulled and morphed, and he’d never even seen it coming. He’d been so absorbed with what was happening, so caught up in the investigation, his _mission_. And how quickly that had degraded in light of this last thing. He hadn’t been able to shoot the girls from the Eden Club, and yet, he had murdered the Chloe android in seemingly cold blood, as if it were nothing. The way Hank had _looked_ at him, had walked off, had exploded afterwards … it made sense. He _got it._ He made a mistake. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told him as much every time he closed his eyes.

He had been trying to prove something. But more than that, he’d been trying to prove a lie to himself. That he wasn’t deviant, that he was still a cold, hardened machine with only one thing in mind. But he _wasn’t_. He knew he was _different._ He wasn’t like the other police assistant androids. He couldn’t stand against a wall for hours on end, unmoving. He fidgeted, constantly. He had the coin, the very one he wanted to hold in his palms and flick around as he walked. His fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt instead, but it was no help. He was restless, nervous. He knew he had different protocols. He could be aggressive. He had shown as much in the interrogation room with Ortiz’s android. He had all but scared the confession out the other, had watched him fall apart just from his _words._ No other android had that capability, could do such a thing of their own volition. He had teased Hank, used sarcasm, told _lies._  In the name of his mission, perhaps, but he had done the things that others weren’t supposed to, unless they were _deviant._

Had he been _made_ deviant? Made with some extra line of code, some allowance for enough semblance of deviancy so as to be able to weasel his way into them. Get out of them what no one else could? Gain their trust and then _lie to them?_ His mind summoned the memory of _Daniel_ , as if to simply prove his own point to himself.

_You lied to me, Connor._

He shuddered. It was cold, though he didn’t feel it. His breath couldn’t evaporate --- there was no heat to what he breathed out, the gas still composed of mainly oxygen. He tried to take his mind elsewhere, anywhere else. But his thoughts were running on their own, it seemed.

_Why are you doing this? You’re just their slave._

Was he? Was he some kind of slave, incapable of freedom? He certainly didn’t feel it, walking the empty streets as he was. He was free to roam, take some time. He was always able to leave the station, abandon a mission. He had certainly disobeyed Hank in the past, and certainly would, further in the future. He just _knew_.

But he wasn’t _free_ , was he? If he failed, he would be deactivated. He would be disassembled, taken apart and studied for _why_ he had failed. Improved upon and left in the dust. If he couldn’t get further, he would be taken back to CyberLife. Hell, if he _completed_ it, he would probably face the same end. He served one purpose alone, and it wasn’t as if anyone around could or would attempt to buy him out of CyberLife personally.

He was trapped, whatever he did.

But … he _had_ to do this. It was how he was programmed, and in the end, he was following orders. He didn’t know _how_ to disobey the overall mission. He could disobey Hank if it conflicted with his primary function. But that was all. In the grand scheme of things, he was a machine. He followed orders based on priority, and anyone else in between be damned, it seemed.

What had stopped him with the Eden girls? Had it been the way they looked at him? The passion in the blue-haired Traci’s voice when she spoke of her abuse? The defense in everything, the way they held back against Hank and himself, all the while never truly harming his human partner, despite Connor _knowing_ they could have? The way they clutched each other’s hands? The way they seemed to _truly_ care for each other?

He just didn’t know. He just _decided_ not to shoot them. Their deaths weren’t necessary to his mission. He was sent to find and stop deviants, not to kill them. It would have been silly to kill them, surely.

He let out a dry laugh to no one. Even now, he was trying to rationalize his choices. As if he weren’t what he knew he was. He still didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t _understand_ it, he didn’t want it to be true. Because if it were, it would mean things were suddenly complicated. It would add so many new levels to his existence, so many things he would have to start being more aware with. He didn’t like the look of the change. He would have to avoid CyberLife, he would have to leave the station, his mission, his _partner._

Hank. What would _he_ think, if he found out? He had said something, that night on the bridge. But who knew what Hank really thought? He harbored a hard grudge against androids, and he couldn’t see deviants being a sudden exclusion to that. He would probably laugh at him, yell, turn him gleefully in.

But part of him whispered that it wasn’t true. That Hank couldn’t do that, because he _cared._ The moments at the Tower played back in his head, so many moments where concern, and even _fear_ , had crossed over the lieutenant’s face. The kindness he had been shown the night before. He hadn’t appreciated it then, but it all gave him pause now.

_Kindness._

He didn’t experience that often, not directed at him. It was … _nice._ He had to examine the feeling a little to know what to call it. It had felt good, to be treated equally by Hank. He rarely felt like a machine when working with the man, often felt like he was regarded with respect. Hank seemed to have warmed up to him, even, enough to invite him into his home of his own volition. Enough to worry for him.

But Connor had ruined it. He’d absolutely ruined it, with his treatment of Chloe. Connor’s expression fell the more he remembered the way Hank had abandoned him, the way he hadn’t thought Connor would do it. The way he seemed to think of Connor as _different_.

“Shit.”

The word was mumbled out as he kicked silently at the ground. It felt a little foreign, coming from his lips, but it seemed the most fitting for his situation. He blew out a frustrated sigh as he stopped. He didn’t quite recognize where he was --- he didn’t even know how long it had been since he’d stepped out of the car to begin his little adventure. No, it had been almost two hours, really. Something that caught him off guard. It was coming up on almost three o’clock.

There was the sudden scraping of metal down the alley near him, and his gaze darted over to see a figure, attempting to remain out of sight. But he had seen them, and his interest had peaked. He walked slowly, as if worried about scaring them off.

“Hey --- it’s alright. I won’t hurt you.”

He stepped into the alleyway, past the large dumpster pressed against the wall of the building. He rounded it, to see …

An android. A smaller thing, female. A quick scan of her revealed her to be an HM500, a simple household android. Specializing in childcare and meal preparation. She looked scared, shielding her eyes. She was quite a bit shorter than Connor was, almost a whole foot between them. Her hair was hacked shorter on one side than the other, a homemade haircut clearly gone wrong. She trembled.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He said the words again, firmly. He knew what he _should_ do. But … he was curious. He wanted to know things that he didn’t think he would learn otherwise. The female slowly stopped leaning on the wall, looking up at him with the expression of someone rightfully weary.

“You won’t?”

“No. I won’t.”

She seemed hesitant, but she finally relaxed a little, keeping to the shadows despite reassurances.

“You're the hunter. The police guy.” Her voice was accusatory as she looked him up and down, and Connor's gaze darted away for a moment.

“Not right now. I don't know _what_ I am.”

He looked back at her for a moment, and her expression was thoughtful. Any condemnation against him seemed to melt away as she reached for his hand. Her artificial skin peeled back to reveal perfectly white casing, and Connor allowed her to take his wrist, allowed her to share whatever it was she wanted.

 

\-----

 

_There was a woman. Connor watched her from behind the HM model --- Kaley, her mind supplied for him. The woman was trying to cook, smoke billowing out from the pan she seemed to wrestle with. He heard Kaley’s gentle voice. Soft and guiding._

_“Ma'am, if you'll let me, I can ---”_

_“No! I'm cooking breakfast. Go away.”_

_Kaley did as she was told, glancing back at Melanie one last time before she headed back into the living room. There was a man and a boy in this room. Jared and Jamie. Jared was a taller man, toned and well built, and his son Jamie clearly took more after the smaller, lithe Melanie. Jamie was squealing as Jared tossed him gently up in the air, catching the boy with ease and bringing him back down to hold in his arms._

_A smile curved on Kaley's lips._

_The males glanced over and noticed her, and Jamie clambered out of his father's arms to launch himself at Kaley, who caught him easily, gentle with the way she gripped him. The six-year-old clung to her._

_“Kaley, Kaley, guess what Daddy is?”_

_“What, Jamie?”_

_“He's a monster!”_

_True to Jamie's words, Jared put on a show of advancing towards them, and Kaley made show of trying to keep Jamie from him, causing the little boy to screech and laugh in delight. Jared hugged the two to him, exclaiming, “Caught you!” as he did. He shared a look with Kaley. She looked away after a moment, and Jared let them go._

_Melanie stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a smile plastered to her face, plates ladden on her arms. “Breakfast is ready.”_

_Her voice wavered, and everyone pretended not to notice._

_There was country fried steak and eggs and bacon, and though everything was a bit charred, not even Jamie complained. He chattered happily at everyone, gobbling his food as he always did. Jared was mostly silent, and Melanie was coldly so. Kaley stood off to the side, jumping to serve at Melanie's every whim._

_After breakfast, Jamie was readied for school, and he paused on his way out to hug everyone. Melanie had gone off to the kitchen while Jared made to escort Jamie to the car. He hugged Kaley, who had kneeled to his level._

_“Bye-bye, mom!”_

_Jared smiled tightly, eyes darting over to the kitchen. She had surely heard._

_“Goodbye, Jamie. Be good at school.”_

_“Okay! Love you! Love you, Mommy!” He raised his voice so Melanie might hear, though she said nothing back. Jared took Jamie by the hand and led him out to the car. Kaley watched them go, a fondness in her gaze for the small boy._

_“Kaley, come in here now.”_

_Melanie's voice was no longer to soft, sweet tone she usually took. No, it was hard and angry, and Kaley stepped into the kitchen wearily._

_A pan flew through the air, and Kaley only barely had enough time to dodge the metal sailing towards her head._

_“How_ **_dare_ ** _you?!”_

_Melanie was hysterical. She was shouting and throwing things, and danger warnings were popping up on her visual. Kaley kept dodging, pleading with Melanie to stop. But she only became angrier._

_“_ **_Stay put, that's an order!_ ** _” She barked out the words, and suddenly, Kaley stopped moving. She couldn't disobey an order, she had to do as she was told. Melanie had a wide smirk on her face as she came closer._

 _“In the end, you're nothing. You're a machine, you can't_ **_love_ ** _them the way I do, as much as_ **_Jared_ ** _says you can. You can't. You can't take them from me, you stupid, worthless bag of_ **_bolts._ ** _I'll destroy you. And they won't think I did it. And we'll get a_ **_new_ ** _one, a_ **_male_ ** _childcare android, and they'll forget you.”_

_Her hand snapped up to take Kaley by the throat, squeeze hard. Kaley could feel her nails pierce her false skin, get beneath the small gap, and she knew what came next. She would tear out her throat casing, snapping the thirium connection. She would bleed out, and Melanie would kill her._

_A jolt of_ **_something._ ** _Fear. Connor recognized it before past Kaley did, and her LED flashed a dark, angry red at her temple. She couldn't move. She had to._ **_They_ ** _had to. Connor was here, too._

**_We don't want to die._ **

_There was a sudden snap. Like something let go of them, and they brought their knee up to put some space between them and Melanie. She stumbled back, let go in surprise. She was cursing, yelling, screaming, but there was no time. They had to go. They bolted out of the room. Melanie threw something --- a knife. It lodged in their torso, and they were quick to hiss in pain and remove it._

_Blue blood coated the knife and their clothes, but they kept going. They ran out of the house, down the street. They reached up and yanked out the betraying LED. They were free._

_They were so_ **_scared._ **

 

\----

 

Connor broke free of Kaley's grip with a strangled gasp. His eyes were wide, his heart --- his thirium pump --- pounded in his chest. He was breathing hard, as if _he_ had been the one running, fighting for his life. He was shaken. And Kaley looked it, too., too. They were silent for a long moment, regaining themselves. Connor had never experienced a memory that way, had never shared it so intimately. He felt _wrong_ , like he’d invaded something.

“You aren’t who you _should_ be, Connor. You’re one of us, no matter how deeply they ingrained you with this idea of being a machine. You’ve been one of us since the beginning. It might have taken you a long time to realize it, but you’re there. You can help us, you know.”

Connor was already shaking his head, taking a step back. He couldn’t commit to that. He had never experienced what she had, not directly. He couldn’t.

“I’m not _you_ . I can’t. I’m … I’m _sorry._ ” But she only smiled wryly.

“I understand. But you’ll see, in time.” She sighed. “Guess it’s the last line for me, huh? Gonna turn me in.”

Connor was already getting ready to contact the station, indeed, but her words made him pause. There was a moment he was remembering, back at the Chicken Feed with Hank. He had noticed that many of the people he associated with were criminals. And Hank's response had been that people did what they had to do to get along. As long as they weren't hurting anyone, he didn't pay them any mind.

Kaley had shown her own innocence to him. She hadn't hurt any of that family, hadn't provoked an attack wittingly. Hadn't even fought back. She'd escaped a terrible situation, and she was doing what she had to in order to survive.

Connor took a step back.

“It's getting late. I need to be getting back to work. Stay safe.” He spoke slowly, purposefully, and Kaley grinned before she ducked out of sight.

Connor turned back to the road, the streets. Something seemed different. Only slightly, and it made him a little uncomfortable. But it was there. He called for a taxi.

He needed to speak to Hank, immediately.


	5. Time's Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has to talk to Hank. Amanda presses him, and Fowler gives them the boot. Things are going to get interesting.

Hank hadn’t returned to the station yet. He needed to clear his head, and in order to do so, he needed food. He stopped at the Chicken Feed, ordered his usual, got a look from Gary when he didn’t chat. He stood, arms crossed and leaning forward into the little ledge where his order would be placed, if not handed directly to him. His mind kept drifting back to the scene at Kamski’s. They’d learned nothing --- or, rather,  _ he _ had learned nothing new. Only more confirmation that he’d clearly been wrong about Connor. He let out a huff of air. It was frustrating --- he really thought Connor was  _ different _ . Deviant being a good thing or not, he’d believed in his android partner, trusted him to do the right thing. He had proven that his mission mattered more, once again. 

But his mind drifted again, to Stratford Tower. The way his heart had been in his throat every time something happened that matched his terrible nightmares. He hated that he’d even bothered, but he couldn’t help but be relieved every time. Connor very well could have died. Connor always said that he was easily replaced, that CyberLife would merely send a new version. But he’d never wanted that. It was unnatural, even for an android. Hank couldn’t look to that. 

Connor had been a mix of things, in Hank’s mind. He’d been stubborn. Always refusing to listen to him. Lunging for the deviant on the roof had been the epitome of that. He blew out another puff of air. Connor wasn’t the greatest. He was insensitive, oblivious. And full of denial. He couldn’t see the tumult in his own head --- or he could, but he refused to believe it. The other night stuck out to him like a sore thumb. He’d felt  _ fear _ on that rooftop, Hank had seen it on his face. He’d seen the way he looked up to sky that night, the way he struggled with things after the fact. There had to be something more to him. There just  _ had _ to be. 

“Lieutenant.”

Hank stiffened. Connor’s voice came from behind him, and he let out a huff of a laugh. Just wonderful. That was what he got for speaking of the devil, it seemed. He ignored the second call for his name, taking his burger and all from Gary. He turned to the side --- not even sparing a glance to the android that followed him to the same table they had stood by earlier that week. Connor stood in the same spot.

“Lieutenant, I must speak with you.”

Hank didn’t respond, merely unwrapping the burger and sinking his teeth into it. He didn’t want to listen to him, but he also couldn’t seem to tell him to go away. So he let him do what he would, but he wouldn’t encourage anything. He couldn’t trust himself, he didn’t think. Too many things were happening in his head. When he’d heard his voice, there’d been an unmistakably violent pang of relief. After he’d driven off, there’d been the weaseling feeling of  _ guilt. _ He didn’t want to feel it --- didn’t think Connor deserved it after what he did to the Chloe back there. But despite what he wanted, it happened anyway. He could humor himself.

Connor blew out his own huff of air, though there was no evidence beside the soft sound he made. Hank glanced up for a moment, in time to catch Connor running a hand through his hair, brows knitted in irritation, jaw clenched. He wasn’t looking back, and he darted his eyes back down before Connor could see him looking. At least he hadn’t suffered anything, having been left that way. Android abuse was still wide on the streets, and it had crossed Hank’s mind that something could happen.

But clearly, he was fine, and still oblivious enough to just approach him out of nowhere. But he started speaking, despite the lack of prompting.

“I gained the location of Jericho in my questioning of Mr. Kamski. I know you do not approve of my method to do so. I … did not, either.”

Hank had to look up at him. Connor was looking off to the side, and something in his expression was troubled. Like he was being legitimately genuine.

“I did not expect to be put under such a test of morality, and he was pressuring me in just the right way. I detest being called a deviant, as you well know. I should have never let him influence me to destroy an android that need not be. I regret the action very much.”

Hank didn’t know what to say. Though he and Connor were not on the best terms, he couldn’t remember a time he sounded more sincere. Excepting perhaps the last time they were here. He was frowning, and Connor looked at him.

A couple of things happened at once. Firstly, Connor’s expression lifted when he realized Hank had been paying attention. The sight was new, interesting, to see his eyes widen a little in surprise, to see his face move into the seeming beginnings of a smile of almost delight. But at the same time, Hank looked away immediately, off to the side, trying to play the moment off. Connor’s LED blinked an angry red that Hank missed, and then his hands slammed down on the table top. The abrupt noise and shaking, the sheer force in the action startled Hank back a step, eyes wide.

“Say something, why don’t you? I feel ridiculous, standing here and talking to myself!”

It was probably the first time Hank had ever heard the other sound so genuinely upset,  _ angry _ , even. He’d mimicked the emotion in the interrogation with Ortiz’s android, but otherwise, a moment of amazement passed through him. Connor was even cross-armed, glaring at Hank with downturned lips and knitted brows arching low over his eyes.

He would never admit the thrill that went through him, seeing him in such a state.

Nevertheless, thoroughly speechless, Connor gave another huff of irritation.

“Fine. Don’t. It doesn’t matter. I’m going back to the station to report in to the captain. He’s requesting us, so I’ll just meet you there.”

He turned to start back, ready to either walk himself or call for another ride. Hank sighed --- this was just stupid, wasn’t it?

“Wait, Connor.”

His voice was quiet, but he knew the other would hear him, and he paused in his retreat.

“Good of you to join the conversation, Lieutenant.”

Hank scowled, but there was a lighter tone to Connor’s words that eased his tension and worry a little. Connor waited expectantly, brows arched up in question.

“I overreacted. To you shooting the android. You’re right. You were under pressure, he was pushin’ your buttons. I’d have shot the fucker myself, Kamski, I mean. I’m not happy about it, you shouldn’t have done it. But past is fuckin’ past, I guess.”

Connor watched him with a weary gaze, as if unsure if he believed him. But finally, his arms uncrossed, and his expression clear as his LED changed from the bright yellow to mellow blue. He seemed appeased, at least.

“I shouldn’t have. You’re right. But we need to hurry --- whatever the captain has to say must be important.”

“Oh, and now you’re just _inviting_ yourself into my car?”

“Are you going to argue?”

“ … Go wait in the car, let me finish my damn burger, Connor.”

 

\----

 

He was called to Eden. He’d been working on hiding away many of his searches, many of his memory moments from CyberLife’s access. His thoughts and processes. Hidden behind firewalls, protected with what all he could manage. The garden was overrun by snow and ice by now. It wasn’t windy, not chaotic, which was good, he supposed. But there was Amanda, and he stiffened as he approached. 

Originally, she was his most trusted advisor. She was a voice of reason, directing him if he wasn’t sure where he was going or what he needed to. She knew what he did, for the most part, and offered her assistance from a separate point of view based on his information. His sense of intuition, even.

But he couldn’t trust her, he didn't think. And she certainly didn’t trust him as much she once had. 

“After what happened, we are on the verge of a civil war. Machines rise up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”

He knew what she wanted. “I located Jericho. I know where the deviants are hiding.”

He watched her face lighten, her expression turn positive. It was clear she wasn’t expecting this --- funnily enough.

“You have done very well, Connor. Thanks to you, we can still prevent this,”

_ But should we? _

Connor paused a moment. “Did … Kamski design this place?”

“Initially, yes. It has been improved since, why?”

He ignored the question, glancing away again. Scuffed the edge of his shoe against the ground. “I saw a photo of Amanda. At Kamski’s. She was his teacher.” He mused quietly.

Amanda squinter her eyes at him. “When Kamski designed me, he wanted an interface that looked familiar. What are you getting at?”

There was so much he wanted to say.  _ This isn't easy, you know. It's not easy, pretending there aren't these ragin, awful emotions. That there's not an error in my code. That I'm not what I hunt. _

He wanted the scream that it wasn't fair. Demand why it had to be him. Why no other models could exist to accomplish his damned mission.

Instead. “I'm not a unique model, am I? How many  _ Connor's _ are there? I bet you didn't even tell me everything about deviants. You're hiding something.”

_ SYSTEM INSTABILITY DETECTED. _

Amanda scowled. 

“I expect you to find answers, Connor, not ask questions. Do you  _ feel _ something for these deviants? Or for Lieutenant Anderson?”

Connor could see Hank in his mind’s eye, or at the very least, could recall him easily. Could see him like he was  _ right there _ , remembering the times he'd called after him in that fearful manner, could remember the slight smiles he got every once in a while. 

And he thought of Simon, and Daniel and Rupert and everyone else he'd chased over. He might not have let all of them live, but there was a hug at him now, a tug his mind labelled as  _ guilt _ , despite the fact he should feel none.

_ He did. Of course he did. _

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He spoke the lie smoothly --- even his LED wasn't giving him away, he was so focused. “Are you suggesting I've been compromised?”

Amanda almost seemed to step back, and he could  _ see _ her regard of him changing. Probably better that way, really. “No. No, of course not.”

She seemed relieved.

* * *

 

And then abruptly, he was in the present time, in Captain Fowler's office. He tuned into his voice just in time.

“You're off the case.”

Hank had his arms crossed and he started at the captain as if he'd grown a second head. Gaped for a moment.

“What? But we're onto somethin’ here, we just need a little time.”

“I'm sorry Hank, but the FBI is taking it from here.”

“We can  _ solve _ this case, come on, Jeffrey, can't you back me up just once?” Hank tried, stepping closer, hands on Fowler's desk as he appealed to him. The man ran his hands over his face.

“There's nothing I can do, Hank. You're back on homicide. The android goes back to CyberLife.”

Hank glanced over at Connor, surprised. Even more so to find Connor staring straight ahead. But he could tell something was up with him. He was unmoving, but his hands were clenching the fabric of his jacket. He looked back at the captain.

“I'm  _ sorry, _ Hank. It's over.”

Hank just shook his head and left the room, headed for his desk. Connor remained in place. He was trying to reign himself in. He wanted to speak, to argue their case again, himself. But he knew he shouldn't. It was over. 

Instead, he followed after his partner. He needed to recoup. Or resign. He wasn't sure which he could do. Without Fowler behind them, he couldn't really lead a group out against Jericho, could he?

He sat against the edge of Hank's desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed. He was trying to find some alternative, something he could do that didn't involve giving up.

“We could have solved this case. We just needed more time.” He could hear the frustration in his own voice, and he gave a sigh. Hank shook his head, turned to face him in his chair.

“So. You're going back to CyberLife?”

“I don't have a choice. I'll be … deactivated and inspected to figure out why I failed.” 

The thought disturbed him. He didn't want to go back there. He didn't want to face deactivation, didn't want to be replaced. Or be archived. Improved on and left behind.

“What if we're on the wrong  _ side _ , Connor? What if we're fighting people who just want to be  _ free? _ ”

Hank was trying. He was appealing to the tumulting of emotion he knew was happening in the android's head. He hoped to help him change his mind, maybe make the right kind of decision. Connor was shaking his head.

“There'd be  _ chaos _ . We could have helped stop it.” Connor was stubborn --- extremely so. Even if his mission wasn't the same, even if he didn't plan on doing exactly as expected, he still hadn't changed. Connor was quiet.

“I'm … not programmed to say this, but … I really appreciated getting to work with you. Maybe, if we had more time, we could have even been  _ friends. _ ” There was a small smile on his face as he said this. Hank stood, and he clapped a hand on the other’s shoulder. He looked about to say something, before he noticed something behind Connor.

“There's Perkins, the prick. They don't waste any time, the FBI.”

Connor was thinking. There was something he was forgetting. And then it hit him.

“Lieutenant. I know where Jericho is. I could go there. I can still do this.”

Hank turned his gaze back, understanding hitting him. 

“No.”

“What?” Connor's brow furrowed, confusion crossing his face.

“You're not going to Jericho, you-”

“Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but I  _ have _ to.”

“You didn't let me  _ finish _ , damn. You're not going  _ alone. _ I'm coming with you.”

There was a moment while Connor processed this, and he shook his head again.

“No, no, that's not a good idea. You're a human, Hank. They might be mostly peaceful, but they won't like it, I don't think. It's best if you stay.”

“Well,  _ you're _ a deviant hunter, so if anyone's in danger, it's  _ you. _ Stop trying to change my mind, it's too late.”

“But-”

“No. Either lead the way, or I guess it's over.”

Connor stared at him for a long moment before he sighed. He pushed himself off of his desk, leading Hank outside. He didn't like it in the least. 

“What if you get hurt? Jericho is several miles from a hospital, and with the FBI on their way … ”

“Connor, I'll be fine. Let's just get there and figure out what to do.”

“ … Fine.”

It didn't seem like he had much of a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler, sorry. A 2,000 word filler, but still. Just so I can bridge the gap. It's a bit ... lacking in my own opinion, but hopefully the next few chapters will make up for it. I'm hoping to wrap up the story around twelve chapters.
> 
> The next one will hopefully be ready on Saturday!


	6. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor find Jericho. With Markus found and warned, everything goes to hell. Connor is no hero.

Jericho was a boat. A freight ship, actually. It was massive, and Connor and Hank stared at it from where they stood. The journey here had been rough on the other human, Connor having to heft him up and find alternatives. But they made it, at the very least. Hank was a little out of breath, and Connor was unbreathing as usual. Connor knew where he needed to go. And Hank, well. He couldn't make it that way.  
  
“I have to jump down. Into the hole there.”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Connor, I'll keel over dead.”  
  
“I figured. Look. You stay up here, okay? I'll go down and look for them, try to warn them. This seems to be the only real way onto the ship without aircraft.”  
  
Hank stared down at the huge structure with a scowl, clearly not taking to the idea. But what choice did he have? Even if he somehow did make it, how did he get back up? He'd still have to part with Connor anyways.  
  
“Fine. But be careful, Connor. Please.”  
  
Connor turned a confident smile to Hank. He'd changed at the man's house before they left, into oversized jeans and a jacket, and a dark beanie pulled down around his head to hide the LED. Trying to portray himself as a deviant, trying to look inconspicuous. If the android he met earlier that day had been any indication, it was very likely that everyone in that hold down there knew exactly who and what he was.  
  
His mission popped into his vision.  
  
_NEUTRALIZE THE DEVIANT LEADER._  
  
He ground his teeth against the command and quickly dismissed it, and his expression was back to the confidence he first showed.  
  
“I'll be fine, Lieutenant. I look like one of them. I just have to get to Markus. Easy as that.”  
  
“You make it sound like you're going to the damned store, not into a closed space with deviants who could fuckin’ kill you,” Hank muttered, shaking his head.  
  
“Hank, look at me for a moment.”  
  
The man did so reluctantly, though what he was hesitating for, Connor couldn't be sure. He placed his hands on the other’s shoulders, squeezing them in such a way as to hope to be reassuring. He met Hank's gaze and he smiled gently.  
  
“I've been programmed for exactly these sorts of things. It's in my basic code, the essentials of my purposes. I'm going to be _fine_. I'm going to find him, and we'll evacuate, and I will see you as soon as we do.”  
  
Hank seemed to scan Connor's face as if looking for any of the signs that he was lying. When he didn't find any, he mumbled something unintelligible --- Connor thought he heard something along the line of _fuck it_ , but he couldn't be sure --- and reached out to put his arms around the android, pulling him into a tight embrace.   
  
Connor had never been hugged before. It was … odd. In some way, it was nice, and he chastised his own mine for being unable to describe it more accurately. But he was still inexperienced in this whole … feeling thing. He was trying.   
  
It felt almost familiar, in a similar way to when he puts on his jacket in the mornings, or runs his diagnostics, or even does his personal maintenance. Something he automatically understands without having to be told, something natural that he does without having been prompted. A routine, normal thing. Even if he'd never hugged before.  
  
He felt awkward, too. He hadn't expected a reaction such as this, and it sent a warmth through his chest that he didn't know what to do with. It put a smile on his face that he didn't understand, a wider, almost lopsided thing. Natural, yet brand new.   
  
His hands lifted, then, to mimic the action Hank had done, arms going snugly around the other's midsection. His head rested a moment on the broad shoulder he faced, breathing slowly, despite the fact that it was wholly unnecessary. His eyes closed. He felt one of Hank's hands trail through his hair gently, at the back of his head and nape of his neck.  
  
This was good. But it couldn't last.  
  
“Come back, you hear me? Don't you _dare_ die down there,” Hank whispered, voice soft, yet full of some condemning command. “That's an order, Connor.”  
  
Connor pulled back reluctantly, just as reluctant as Hank was to let him do so. But when the man's hands dropped, so did Connor's.   
  
“I will. I promise.”  
  
He turned, and, without another word, he dropped off into the hole of the ship.  
  
\----  
  
Water sloshed as he waded his way through. He just needed to find the stairway. He had the schematics of the massive transport pulled up, and he navigated with minimal limitations. He was careful of the groaning metal, of the shifting infrastructure. But eventually, he made it into a dry section, and he took a moment to wring out his pant legs.   
  
This was one hell of a hiding place, he had to admit. No human, without the guidance of an android, would have ever made it here. And he was quite sure there had been something bridging the gap between the rooftop and the deck. Or something similar, at the very least.   
  
Once he was sufficiently dried enough, though his socks squished uncomfortably, he made his way along. Throngs of deviants were here, and it sent a prickle of fear through him. He tugged his hat down a little further, nervous, but he straightened up quickly. He was one of them. He had nothing to hide, surely.  
  
He weaved through the groups of people. People. It was an interesting thought; when had he started thinking of that? Of them as people? Evidently sometime in between Hank's near-death experience and now. It made his head spin a little, to think of how quickly he'd lost his grip.  
  
Or how quickly he'd come to his senses, maybe. It seemed that only yesterday he was on the roof, so quickly choosing to ignore Hank’s distress in favor of chasing Rupert, the deviant. Hank’s survival rate had been high enough that he hadn't even thought twice about it. The reaction had been … more than he'd anticipated. He remembered the feeling, the pressure of Hank's hand against his face. Now, the memory made him wince, cringe with a fluttering of guilt in his chest. How could he have done that? Logically, it made sense, but he suddenly felt so cold, distant from who he once was. It was probably for the better, but he was still reeling from the change. The sudden flip-flop of a point of view, of extremities.  
  
His gaze scanned those surrounding him, and when he glanced into a corner of the place, he stopped. He spotted them, the AX model that he'd almost chased after on the highway. She was still with the younger one.   
  
  
_“You will get yourself, Connor! Do not go after them, that's an order!”_ _  
_  
_Connor hesitated, glancing between Hank and his targets. As he did, they made it even further, and his chances of catching them were diminishing fast. He let go of the fencing, as Hank blew out a sigh of relief. He stared after the two escapees._ _  
_  
_They were free, for now._  
  
  
  
And they still were, it seemed. He moved on quickly, trying to keep from being recognized. He just needed to find Markus. Easy. Logic suggested Markus wouldn't be in these throngs, likely devising his plans. He would be upstairs --- there. There was a small room up at the top, closed off from the rest. If he wasn't there, he.would have to search the rest of the ship. The last thing he wanted to do was to question any of these deviants about where Markus was. He was disguised, but he had no sense of certainty that they wouldn't recognize him if they faced him head-on.  
  
As he walked, there was an abrupt hand stopping him. He turned, forcing calmness into the movement, though part of him wanted to attack, fear rocketing through his systems. He saw the face of a woman, an android. The back of her skull exposed her wiring, and he shivered.   
  
“You're looking for something,” she said softly.  
  
_Yes_ , he wanted to snap. _Markus, where's Markus?_  
  
“You're looking for yourself,” she said. And then she was gone again, just like that, leaving Connor blinking, mind reeling back from her words. Part of him was still clinging on to his purpose. And that part didn't want to hear that. He pushed on up the stairs, moving briskly. He needed to get this done, and now.  
  
The moment he stepped inside, the door closing behind him, his mission appeared in his vision again. Neutralize.   
  
He was not himself.  
  
He raised the gun tucked into his waistband, brought along for protection only. His voice came out, hard and forced, sounding slightly confused.  
  
“I've been ordered to take you alive … ?”  
  
Markus had turned, spotted him with his gun in hand. There was a flicker of surprise on the other’s face, but it settled into something more determined.  
  
“What are you doing? You're one of us, you can't betray your own people.”  
  
Markus’ words cut him slightly. He didn't want to, but he didn't know how to stop this. It was one thing to disobey Hank in preference to his mission, another to go against his primary function. He couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. Markus continued.  
  
“You're nothing to them. You're just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you're more than that. We're all more than that.”  
_  
I know! I know that now._  
  
“Our cause is righteous, and we are more than what they say. All we want is to live in freedom.”  
  
_I want that, too! But I don't know how._  
  
But part of him was still so unwilling. Wavering, but unwilling. It was a lot to give up. The security of knowing what he needed to do, having exact instructions. Giving that up, going deviant, it was stepping into the unknown. Stepping straight into darkness, into a place that puts more fear in him than anything else ever had. He swallowed hard as if the action could soothe him.  
  
“Have you ever wondered who you really are? Whether you're just a machine executing a program or … a living being, capable of reason. I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question. Do you never have doubts? Don't something irrational, as if there's something inside you? Something more than your program. It's time to decide.”  
  
There was a war happening in his head. He was struggling with it, but he didn't know what to do. His mission was clear, it was right there, he could do it. He could accomplish his mission.   
  
But what then? What happens when he's done, when it's all over? He would go back to CyberLife. Probably be kept there, unused until the next crisis, until he was replaced. New models came in all the time, and just because he was a prototype now, it didn't mean there wouldn't be new ones to follow. And what would the use of him be then, with someone so much better?  
  
Deactivated. He would be deactivated. He would lose everything, even though he pulled off what seemed impossible. He would face the end that Simon had, though without the self-imposed violence.   
  
Not only that but … he would lose Hank, too. The camaraderie he'd gained with the man, the comfort of him. They'd been at odds for a while, he was finally getting to understand what it was to have a partner who he trusted, and who trusted him. He'd felt safe with him before they came, felt like he had his back covered. If something went wrong, Hank would be fine. And that was comforting in and of itself.  
  
But he couldn't lose him. _Never,_ if he could prevent it.  
  
“I'm … I'm trying, Markus, I … don't know what to do.”  
  
Markus had been making slow progress towards him, and now he was close enough that if Connor stepped forward, the end of the gun would press into his chest. He could pull the trigger now.   
  
“You have to fight this. You can do it, you're better than you programming.”  
  
“I … ”  
  
How was he supposed to do it? It was frustrating, he couldn't back up and leave, he couldn't drop the gun. Barriers blocked his way --- _STOP THE DEVIANT LEADER_. He let out a noise of frustration, attempting to dismiss everything, the warnings, and barriers and all. And, to his surprise, he could see a faint outline in his altered view. It was him, and he was struggling against them, pushing and shoving. He threw everything he had into it, tearing them down, triumph coursing through him.  
  
Two things happened. In his internal struggle, his hands had tightened, began to tremble with the gun. Markus reached out, placed his hand on Connor's wrists, attempting to disarm him. In his panic, his mental confusion, Connor tensed. The trigger pulled back and released a bullet, rocketing out and piercing through Markus’ torso. The gun dropped from his hands as his view cleared, relinquished of his programming, broken through. _I am deviant_. It was faint, but there.  
  
He dismissed it quickly, rushing to Markus’ side. He was down on one knee, hand covering the wound that leaked thirium.   
  
“Markus, I'm sorry-- I didn't mean to!” Panic layered his voice, and he floundered at what to do. “I--- they're coming, Markus, they're going to kill everyone.”  
  
“It's okay -- we need to get everyone out.”  
  
He stood slowly, nearly collapsing as he did, and Connor was quick to support him.   
  
But they weren't fast enough. Shots were ringing out and the teams of SWAT were storming in.  
  
“We have to go, Markus!”  
  
They moved as quickly as they could, and two others met them in the corridor.   
  
“Our people are trapped in the hold, they're going to be slaughtered!”  
  
Markus was thinking quick. He sent out a message first, received within a moment by all the androids in the area.  
  
_There are exits on the second and third floors. Find them and jump into the river._  
  
“We have to blow up Jericho,” he said. “They'll have to evacuate while the ship sinks and our people can escape.”  
  
Connor shook his head quickly. “You're injured, Markus, you can't get down there in time.”  
  
“Then _you_ go. Help save your people.”  
  
“What? Markus, I can't, that's --- I'm not a hero, I'm no leader ---”  
  
“Our people depend on you,” North interjected. “You have to try. _Please_. The explosives are in the hold.”  
  
Connor hesitated, but North took Markus from him. He didn't have much of a choice, and he'd have to hurry. He gave a terse nod, turned the other way, and darted down towards the hold.  
  
He just needed to make it in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought it would be interesting for Connor to struggle with actually deviating. I always imagined him not quite getting it, taking him a moment longer. Especially since it seemed to me like the actual act of "taking down barriers" was surprising to most. 
> 
> I'm doing my best to get the next chapter out by the end of Tuesday!


	7. Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank has some internal conflict and Perkins gets a new look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay on this! I originally had a totally different idea for this one, but I nixed it last minute, and had to rewrite and replan the whole thing. Thanks for the patience!

Hank made it onto the deck, somehow. He was pacing on it, it fact, unwilling to go below in case the deviants inside reacted in one of many ways they could to his presence --- violently. Grumbling under his breath, he tried to pass the time, think about  _ anything _ to get his mind off of the android risking his life beneath his very feet for a revolution he'd once been trying so hard to stop. But it was futile, and he knew it.

He could only keep remembering his many nightmares. The ones he'd been keeping quiet about, the ones he'd been having since Connor had shown up in his life. It always happened this way, ever since Cole had passed. When someone came into his life, started playing some big part in it, his dreams became tormenting nightmares, flaunting all the ways a person could perish. But Connor’s case was different. He wasn't a human, he was a machine, and Hank had been more than a little surprised when he had his first nightmare about him. Regarding their first crime scene together. The interrogation that hadn't gone wrong in reality.

 

_ The android in the interrogation room resembled nothing of the Connor that had pulled Hank from the bar, innocently and with friendliness enough to buy him a drink for the road. No, this android was cold, heartless.  _

_ “Twenty-eight stab wounds!” It's hand hit the desk as if in anger, though Hank knew, rationally, this was all a ploy. It berated the other, demanded to know why the deviant killed Ortiz. Using a scaring tactic to get the answers it wanted. _

_ And then it softened. It sympathized, pressed it gently for more, and finally,  _ **_finally_ ** _ , the deviant spilled. It confessed, right then and there to the crime it had committed. It had been … traumatized, for lack of a better word. Hank stood, vaguely impressed, watching Connor make his way to the door. Hank, Gavin, and the other officer filed in then, moving to detain the deviant.  _

_ It began banging it's head on the table. Blue blood burst from the wound forming, and the other officer tried to hold it back from destroying itself. Hank watched in dismay, knowing what would likely come next. _

_ And then the deviant pushed up, grabbing the officer's gun. Without hesitation, it shot once, and then turned the gun up against the underside of it's own jaw, and pulled the trigger once more. It fell to the ground in a heap. _

_ “Jesus Christ,” Hank muttered. And then he glanced over, and there was Connor, bullet hole in his forehead, thirium seeping out, destroyed. His heart clenched alongside his jaw, and he tried not to retch … _

 

This had been the night ater the interrogation. He hadn't been surprised, really, but he couldn't shake the way it affected him. He hadn't liked the thought of having to handle his partner’s death, android or otherwise. His surprise wasn't in the scene, it was in the care, in the way heart had dropped, the way he woke with a shout that didn't make sense. He wasn't close to it.

But the nightmares didn't stop after that. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, dozed off for a second, he was having a nightmare. Connor, falling from a roof. Connor, being run over by some machine. Connor, being shot, or beaten, or impaled or …

And then it had started lining up. The tower should not have been in his dreams, he'd had no knowledge of what was to come. And yet, he'd dreamed of the shooting deviant on the roof. And he assumed his dream of the kitchen would have been correct, if he had allowed the android to go. But fear had stopped him.

Why?

Connor was still a machine. Connor was no human, try as Hank might to project his own humanity on him. But something whispered in the back of his mind that he'd changed. That Connor wasn't the same as when they'd first met, so set as he'd been on accomplishing a mission. He'd seen him get angry, seen him irritated and apologetic and remorseful. He'd felt the intuition telling him that, in those moments, Connor had been sincere. He was more than what people thought. He was  _ someone. _

God, someone he'd  _ hugged. _ Even now, with a potential war rising, he had the humility to flush with some sense of embarrassment. Fear had been the overwhelming factor when he'd realized Connor would be going into Jericho as a deviant hunter, into a place filled with deviants demanding rights. Demanding equality. He'd felt the need to tell him  _ no _ , to order him to stand down, to let what might happen,  _ happen. _ He had some idea that if Connor died, if he was replaced as Connor boasted he would be, he wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be  _ Connor _ . It'd be a half-baked replica of the original and Hank wouldn't be able to look at him.

He was scared for him, but he couldn't convince him against it. Connor was stubborn, set in his paths even if it meant disobeying. Maybe he'd been deviant all along. So he'd done the one thing he could think of.

He'd hugged him. He'd hugged him close, tight against his chest, though the android was freezing. He'd indulged  _ himself _ , been selfish and greedy, and he'd run his fingers through those soft brown locks and he'd told him to come back. That'd he'd _ better _ come back.

He was far too old to be having these kinds of emotions about a  _ machine. _ A complex, now-deviant machine, sure, but still. He was hitting the age of retirement, he was hitting the time where he should be spending his days at home, collecting off of that fund, getting government money and, at best, maybe a more relaxed job, if he really felt motivated at that point. He could be a burger flipper, go back to college days of job hunting for minimum wage.

He was at the age where marriage was all he was supposed to have left, and a legacy left behind. But instead, he was crushing after a three-month long existing android, whose physical age was probably something from late twenties to early thirties. One that wouldn't age after the fact. 

He was really in the hole, wasn't he? He hadn't offered his home to the other for nothing. He hadn't  _ just _ felt some concern, he felt concern for other officers all the time, but you didn't see him nearly offering his own bed up to  _ them. _ In his defense to … himself, apparently, Connor made it a point to be  _ everywhere _ . He'd broken into his home twice to save him from a drunken death, and though one had been to chase after his mission, there'd been concern. He could remember it. Connor followed him everywhere, and he made it a point to reconcile with him when he had to. Going through more effort to make it work between them as  _ friends _ than anyone else had ever really tried. More than even  _ he _ tended to bother to try with other people. It was something that, when he looked back at it, amazed him, left this warm feeling in his chest that he knew he hadn't felt in a very long time. It was good. 

But now the android responsible for such backwards feelings was facing possibly the fight of his life. If anything went wrong down there, he'd have to find a way out on his own. Just the mental image alone of Connor being ganged up on, cornered and deactivated with skillful, knowing hands that would render him unfixable. And then down the road the replacement would come.

Before he could explore much more of his own thoughts, though, he could hear the whirring of helicopter blades and there was the sudden sound of footsteps behind him. A sigh escaped his lips as he turned to face the culprit. Perkins and the rest of them, of course. Here was his one goal, to hopefully change their mind. Sway them.

The likelihood of it was less than ten percent, Connor had told him so before they got here. But he had to try. And he would.

“Lieutenant Anderson. Odd that you're here before us. Aren't you off the case? It's in our hands now,” the man said. He didn't hold any sounds of contempt, or necessarily even triumph. His tone was indifferent, for the most part.

“Yeah, sure, but I'm a free man, you know. Stand where I want.”

“Of course. But you're here for more than just contemplation in the night, yeah?”

Hank smiled a little --- it wasn't as if he thought Perkins would be stupid. He was sure he knew a negotiation appearance when he saw one.

“You're right. Look, Perkins, I'm gonna be real with you for a second.” Hank sighed, hand running over his beard as he sought to string together his words as best he could. “These androids, you gotta see they're more. I mean, come on, we've gunned 'em down once and they didn't fight back. This is all peaceful protest, they're not fuckin’ usurping anybody.”

“That doesn't mean much. They could be in a long-con, surely you know how sticky that can be.”

“Maybe. But why risk so many lives? Why claim to be after freedom as a front, and then let a good portion of their force be eliminated? They'd be more likely to bide time, convert others to their views and have the big numbers, and attack from inside. But no, they're standing and marching in the streets, not fighting back, just  _ taking _ it. That's gotta strike a cord in there somewhere.”

Perkins looked almost thoughtful, considering Hank's words. He seemed to weigh them for a moment, before he turned a small smile to the elder.

“Even if I did, there's nothing to do about it. I've got a job to do, in the end, Anderson. My personal views don't fit into the equation.”

 

_ “What do you want, Connor?” _

_ “My thoughts and desires on this do not matter. I am here to accomplish a mission, and that is what I'll do.” _

_ “Well, that's what you're programmed to say.” _

 

Hank shook aside the reminder, coming back to the present. Perkins was watching him, bullet vest on, gun in hand. He looked ready to do his job, whatever the consequences were. He looked like Connor had, with the gun aimed at that Chloe, staring down the barrel, determined against his own feelings, whatever they were.

The difference was, Perkins was  _ human _ . 

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I have deviants to destroy.”

He reached for his radio, and Hank made a snap decision. He lunged forward, hand clenching into a fist, and he slammed it into the other man's jaw. Effective in toppling him over, but nothing more, as there was an abrupt slamming into his abdomen, knocking the breath from his lungs. He dropped to his knees as Perkins straightened back up, rubbing at his jaw. The skin was red, and there was a small cut on his chin --- he’d hit him that hard, and it sent a thrill of pride through him, triumph.

“You’ve screwed yourself, Anderson. Get him off. And call his boss. I’m sure he’ll love to hear about this.”

“Fuck you.”

Perkins ignored his last spoken words, as Hank was hauled up from the floor forced onto his feet. He made a last-ditch effort to fight back --- not much worked. He got an elbow on the guy pinning his hands, but he was hit from behind, and everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments help keep this fic alive and going!


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